


looee tooshay

by oh_no_oh_dear



Series: tungle dot hell [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Really Bad French, language learning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 19:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10472226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_no_oh_dear/pseuds/oh_no_oh_dear
Summary: Prompt: Sam/Bucky + "him touch penis"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because my friends are genuinely bad people, I was given this bizarre prompt.

  
Sam didn’t care what Steve said about Bucky having been a suave ladykiller* in the past; the man was terrible at flirting.   
  
*considering recent events, perhaps that word ought not be used to describe an ex-assassin  
  
He didn’t even have the ‘sullen, scowling bad boy with a sad past’ thing going any more. No, he’d found himself in the modern world, all right.  
  
He was a fucking _dork._  
  
    “Sam, what happened to the Spice Girls?”  
  
Sam concentrated _really hard_  on his Cinnamon Toast Crunch. He had a few choice words for whoever it was that introduced Steve to sugary breakfast cereals, because it was all the man ever bought now.   
  
    “Sam.”  
  
Sam was deeply engrossed in how loudly he could chew until Barnes’ voice was drowned out. So far, no such luck.  
  
    “Sam.”  
  
    “What what _what_ **what** , Barnes, _what_?” Sam grit out, finally looking up. He was sleep-rumpled, his face still creased from his pillow and his mouth twisted into an unhappy sort of semi-pout. It was 4am (too early), it was overcast (pressure headache), and most importantly, it was Saturday (Sam’s day off.)  
  
    “What happened to the Spice Girls?” Bucky repeated, reaching over Sam to grab the tub of cream cheese instead of asking like a polite, well-mannered human being.  
  
    “Uuuuggggh,” Sam replied, his groggy irritability taking over for a second. Then he heaved a sigh. Barnes had stayed up all night because of... well, who knows, the guy was clearly wired in that ‘48 hours without sleep and I feel _great_!’ kind of way. He was just trying to make conversation with Sam.  
“They broke up? I think? Or-- wait, there was some kinda reunion thing? My sister lost her damn mind over it.”  
  
    “Aww, hell, did they really break up?” Bucky asked, looking despondent as he slathered an upsetting amount of cream cheese onto his bagel.  
  
    “Think so, man. Sorry.”  
  
    “Damn.” Bucky paused, and then perked up again. “Wanna watch their videos on YouToo?”  
  
    “You _what_?”  
  
    “Y’know. YouToo! Videos, and ... well, just videos.”  
  
    “You _Tube_ , Barnes. Tube.”  
  
    “What th’ hell’s it called _that_? YouToo makes sense, like... I’m watchin’ a video, and _you too_.”  
  
    “Barnes, shut the...” Sam trailed off, idly sucking the last of the overly sweet cereal milk off his spoon. (He didn’t notice Bucky ardently watching him.)  
“You know, I don’t know why it’s called YouTube? Maybe something to do with TV or...”  
  
And that’s how they spent 10 minutes Googling the history of YouTube, and almost 2 hours watching Spice Girls videos (Bucky fell asleep about 40 minutes in, slumped heavily against Sam. Sam allowed it; the guy seemed exhausted. Sam fell asleep with his face mashed unattractively in Barnes' messy hair, but he'd take that one to the grave.)  


* * *

  
    “What, like a learning exchange?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. It was the next Saturday, this time 5am, and he’d found Bucky wide awake _again_.  
  
    “Well, I dunno. I guess. I ask you bout lotsa stuff, and I thought... I could tell ya stuff.”  
  
    “Stuff.”  
  
    “I know stuff!” Bucky said, slightly defensive. Sam hid a huge yawn behind his hand, waving the other dismissively.  
  
    “Yeah, I know you know stuff. What kinda stuff you wanna teach me?”  
  
    “Dunno. What you wanna know about?”  
  
Sam thought for a moment. _50 Ways To Garrote Your Man-- While Keeping Your Hair Perfect!_  
  
_Perfecting Your Thousand-Yard Stare and Other Makeup Tips_  
  
_How Punching Nazis Can Help YOU Get the Ridiculously Hot Body of Your Dreams!!_  
  
Sam blinked. That last one had come out of nowhere. He cleared his throat.  
“Uhhh. I dunno, always wanted to learn French...”  
  
    “Languages?” Bucky asked, furrowing his brow. Sam felt a stab of worry; he wasn’t sure how Barnes felt about his multi-lingual ability, considering how he’d gotten it. But Bucky’s face was lighting up now.  
“Yeah, I could do that. You uh... if you got Saturdays free, we could do an hour? I’m. I c’n teach. I used to tutor my little sister.” The man was quieter now, getting the far-off look that he and Steve got sometimes.  
  
   “That’d be pretty cool, Barnes,” Sam said, feeling a little hot in the face for some reason. Bucky nodded, seeming to come back to himself.  
  
    “Okay! So. Got another culture question for ya. Then we can do some a’ the French basics. Yeah?”  
  
    “ _Oui.”_  
  
    “Wilson, it’s _one word._ How’d you get the accent so janky? Jesus, I’m gonna have my work cut out for me.”  
  
    “Fuck you, Barnes.”  
  
    “You wish. Okay-- Backstreet Boys vs. N’Sync. What was up with that?”  
  
Sam and Bucky smoothly ignored the _You wish_ , even though there was just the faintest hint of pink in Bucky’s cheeks for a few minutes.  


* * *

__  
(2:08 am. Saturday. 4 months later.)  
  
Sam pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyelids, seeing spots when he finally eased off. He’d been given more ‘homework’ by freakin’ Barnes; translating a long list of phrases without the help of a dictionary or Google Translate, which Barnes would check over in the morning.  
  
Sam was exhausted. He’d actually picked up the basics blazingly fast -- not that he was paying attention to the praise that Barnes heaped on him, _shut up_ \-- and had come to look forward to his Saturday mornings. (Steve had been banned from the language lessons for interrupting every few minutes with a ‘Well, _actually,_ in this particular dialect--’ comments.)  
  
A message flashed on his screen; his sister, 4 hours ahead of him, was awake. He opened his camera and waved to his younger sister, who saluted him with her cup of coffee. Since it was early, they typed instead of using audio:  
  
  
_Sarah W.: Sammy sammy sam sam_  
  
_S. Wilson: jfc sis ur hyper today_  
  
_Sarah W.: I have a long weekend!! Going 2 the spa_  
  
_S. Wilson: u fancy_  
  
_Sarah W.: do u have your HON HON HON FRONSH LESSON today_  
  
_S. Wilson: lol u know i do_  
  
_Sarah W: R U GONNA TELL LE PROFESSOR YOU WANNA SMASH_  
  
_S. Wilson: obv not jfc_  
  
_Sarah W.: if you don’t I WILL_  
  
_S. Wilson: Sarah NO_  
  
_Sarah W.: SARAH_ **YES  
**   
_S. Wilson: how do u make bold??_  
_S. Wilson:_ **o nvm i figured it out  
**   
_Sarah W.: tell him LUI TOUCHER LE PÉNIS_  
  


Sam couldn’t help it; he let out an ungainly wheeze, shaking with laughter at his desk.  
“ _L...lui... toucher... le pénis,”_ Sam read aloud, actual tears starting in his eyes. His sister was _ridiculous._  
  
    “Christ, Wilson. ‘Him touch the penis? That’s some fucked up grammar, even for you,” Bucky said from the doorway. Sam just barely refrained from yelping, instead whipping around to stare at the source of the voice.  
  
    “What the _hell_ , Barnes!”  
  
    “Your door was kinda open,” Bucky shrugged. “And your light was on. Figured you’d want some company.” As he spoke, he moved further into the room-- much like he had many times over the last few months. Sam and Bucky had become late-night companions (not like _that,_ Sarah, oh my _god_ ), since they both had trouble staying asleep all night. Maybe they’d fallen asleep tangled together more than a few times on Sam or Bucky’s bed. No big.  
  
    “I was just talking to Sarah,” Sam said, still laughing a little.  
  
It was only when Bucky smiled and said “How is she?” that Sam remembered that Bucky and Sarah occasionally exchanged pleasantries. Bucky’s eyes widened slightly as he read the conversation. Sarah, watching with wide eyes, waved and gave Bucky a thumbs up. Bucky grinned at her.  
  
    “Listen, Sarah is wild, Barnes. I don’t--” Sam started.  
  
    “If you wanted to ask something like that, you’d say...” Bucky leaned forward and murmured it into Sam’s ear, afterwards huffing out an almost shy laugh. Sam, feeling distinctly feverish as he had with increasing frequency around Barnes lately, repeated the phrase.  
  
    “Pretty good, Wilson,” Bucky murmured. He paused. “ _If you were serious, the answer is yes,”_ he continued in French. Sam frowned for a few moments, mentally translating. When it clicked, he sort of-- twitched.  
  
    “ _Really?”_  
  
    “ _Yeah.”_ Bucky bit his lower lip briefly before switching back to English. “I’ve been sleeping fine the last couple months. Just been gettin’ up early to see you.”  
  
    “Jesus, Barnes. We’re a couple of idiots,” Sam said, laughing slightly. “So have I. We coulda been sleeping in all this time, man.”  
  
    “Dunno. I don’t mind.” Bucky’s eyes were on him, intense and searching. _If you were serious, the answer is yes._ Slowly, tentatively, the two men edged towards each other and found that the answer was an emphatic _oui._  
  
_Sarah W.: OMG SAM R U GONNA KISS HIM_  
_Sarah W.: Sam do u know u still have your camera on_  
_Sarah W.: EW EW EW OK BYE_  
  
  
  
  
  
**[NEW TEXT FROM: SARAH WILSON]**  
omg Sam like congrats but u scarred ur little sister for life and I need at least 2 bottles of HIGHGRADE tequila to undo the damage  
  
**[NEW TEXT FROM: SARAH WILSON]**  
  
im dead serious Sammy u owe me SO MUCH ALCOHOL  
  



End file.
